Coming Up for Air
by the waffle
Summary: I looked up, into the face of an angel. He still had his hand around my arm where he had stopped me from falling. I was falling now, in a different way, looking into that face that said nothing but "Are you OK?" My name is Ino. I am a runaway. ShikaIno


AN: Hell's bells! It's been a bloddy long time since I've written anything, hasn't it? Well, that's all going to change! Starting with this, to get me back on track. Anyone who reads my other stories will (hopefully) be happy to hear: THEY WILL BE UPDATED! I promise. I'll only be working on one story at a time until it's finished, so be sure to let me know what ones you'd prefer first. Perhaps I should do a poll?

Anyway, I've just realised I've not really apologised for my absence - so, here you go. Sorry a million, trillion times. I don't know what came over me, but it's all about to change!

This is dedicated to EVERYONE that reads this, and EVERYONE who has ever read my other stories. I love you all!

Also, anyone who can guess what inspired this (hint: It's a fairytale!) before I tell you at the end of the story - give yourself a cookie!

* * *

"Are you alright?"

I looked up, into the face of an angel. That's the only way to describe him, he was so lovely. He still had his hand around my arm where he had stopped me from falling. I was falling now, in a different way, looking into that face that said nothing but "Are you alright?" No disgust, no judgement, just a feeling that was real and true that made him ask, "Are you alright?" and mean it.

My name is Ino. I am sixteen years old and I am a runaway.

What did I run away from? Well, not much. A year ago, a dead-end children's home in dead-end downtown Inverness. Sakura and I ran away one Friday afternoon because firstly, we'd had enough of being told what to do and secondly, sixty quid had gone missing from the petty cash and someone had put the finger on Sakura. Sakura looked at me, and I knew what she was going to say. She'd run away before and she was on a warning. One more incident, they said, and she'd be sent to a secure unit, whatever that was. She dreaded it, that's all I knew. We could stay and fight it; but Sakura and me had been in so much trouble recently we knew they wouldn't believe a word we said.

We'd all been asked to gather in the day room. The police were due in half an hour.

"Ino-pig. Let's run away."

I was scared, I don't mind saying. It was true I was sick of it all; sick of being told what to do; sick of getting the blame for every tiny thing, guilty or not. But _running away_? I'd imagined it - dreamt about it. But now it was too real.

We'd talked through a plan before. Sakura had a half-sister living in Glasgow, and we'd always said this was where we'd go, if it ever came to it. She would put us up. Let us live there, even.

There was a hollow where my stomach should have been. I was terrified of both situations - staying and going. It was a life-changing decision.

"I'm going _anyway_," said Sakura, shoving stuff into her rucksack. "You have to decide now! What's it gonna be, Ino? Now or never?"

Life would've been unbearable without Sakura and anyway, they'd probably have accused me too, as her accomplice or something, and _I'd_ have been the one in the secure unit.

So next thing, we were on the train. We'd had just enough to buy two child singles. "Wow, Forehead!" I said, gasping, shaking.

We sat, breathless, looking at each other, hardly believing what we'd done. Then we suddenly started giggling, we couldn't help ourselves, and all the terror I'd felt just seemed to dissolve. We'd done it. We were free! I was thinking, it would be okay, wouldn't it? After all, we were going to Sakura's _sister_.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Dark, dank steps from the street into this basement well, the walls covered in moss. A battered door with no bell. We had to knock and knock. Sakura's sister was still in her nightie, even though it was half past four! And she didn't look any too pleased to see us either, I can tell you. The place was an absolute _tip_. It stank of fags and something sweet and sickly - mould, I think - and the kitchen sink was piled high with washing-up; the bin overflowing. She said we ought to go back. She didn't want the police coming round. But Sakura _begged_ her not to call the home. She spun some story about us being beaten-up, bullied, that's why we'd run away. It was quite a performance. Oscar-winning, I'd say, because the sister - Mikoko - seemed to soften a bit and said, "Okay, just for tonight then. We'll see what to do in the morning.

I was thinking, It's _not_ okay for tonight, or any night. We were in this boxroom on a filthy mattress with no sheets and just a stinking single duvet between us. And it was rotten cold and I was thinking that it was probably the worst night of my life; and the biggest mistake of my life too.

I lay there in the dark; eyes wide open. I know Sakura was awake too. She'd been trying to pretend all this was fine; just because it was her idea; and her fault too, when you thought about it.

"You didn't take that money, did you Forehead?" It just came out. I think I needed someone to blame.

Suddenly she was bolt upright, practically shouting at me, "Ino, I thought you were my _friend_. I told you I never took it. Full stop."

"Yeah, _but_..." I couldn't help myself.

"Yeah, but _what_? We're here, aren't we? We've escaped."

"But Sakura...it's _awful_."

"Well, it's all we've got. And we can't go back. We'll both be sent to some rubbish place. Locked up. Do you want that? _Do you_?"

I burst into tears. It was pathetic. I knew really I was half to blame - I just didn't want to admit it. And I was angry with her because I'd imagined this nice, friendly sister in a warm, clean flat and this rubbish pit was the end of the world as far as I was concerned.

* * *

I'm not a bad person. Really, I'm not. I've just had a lot of bad things happen to me. First my mum disappears. Woke up one morning and she's gone. No note. Nothing. Can't even remember how old I was. Eight or something. And Dad couldn't look after me properly. Neighbour came round one day and found me on my own, trying to light the gas fire. She went ballistic and called in Social Services. Next thing I know, I'm in a children's home and my dad has disappeared too. Then foster homes, one after the other. Never worked out. I was always too "angry", they said. They were all rubbish anyway. And then I ended up in Deerhaven. Haven! I could laugh. But there was Sakura, my roommate. Pink hair, chopped short. Cheek like you'd never believe. Tough. We became wild. The terrible two, they called us. And then we started dogging school and then the trouble started. We just weren't into being told what to do. That's all.

In the end, Sakura's deadbeat sister Mikoko (and her boyfriend, Yuichi) let us stay. Except after a week or so she said we had to pay. Had to contribute to the household. Some household.

And Sakura says, "But how can we do that? We're too young to work, and we can't give our real names anyway."

And Mikoko says, "Do what I did. Beg. Get out there. Two young kids like you - people'll feel sorry for you. I'll tell you where all the best pitches are."

And that was the start of it. I suppose we could have gone. Dunno where though. Somewhere might have taken us without too many questions. But by then we had a good reason to stay. Kiba. Our dog. Yuichi's dog, really, although Yuichi would have let him starve to death if it was up to him. Someone gave him to Yuichi and he swanned around for a couple of days - look, I'm so cool with this dog - and then couldn't be bothered with him. He was a mongrel - brown and red with the stupidest face you ever saw. But he was _gorgeous._ So me and Sakura took him over. Bought his food, kept him clean. Let him sleep on our bed. And from day one, when I was out on the streets, I took him with me.

A few weeks later, Sakura disappeared. One night she just didn't come home. It was dead cold and I was frantic. Mikoko didn't want to report it: "We don't want the police nosing around, do we?" I was furious. How could she not even care?

Next day I went looking for her. Word on the street was that she'd been picked up by the police. I couldn't believe it. Stupidly, it only just then occured to me that they'd be looking for us. The runaways. She was probably back at the home by now. Or worse - locked up in that secure unit she dreaded so much. Poor Sakura! She was my only real friend, apart from Kiba. I prayed that she wouldn't give me away. But somehow deep down I knew she wouldn't. And I was terrified that Mikoko would chuck me out. And what about Kiba? What would he do then?

So I just kept quiet; became helpful. That was the way to do it. Did washing-up and stuff, made them tea. As long as I kept out of the way and brought the money in, I was okay. But I can tell you for nothing that I was going downhill. Didn't eat much. Hardly changed my clothes. Living in that house with those two ate into your bones and changed you until you became exactly like them. I never really felt part of the human race and it wasn't hard to go the whole way, over the other side. And it was on a day I was feeling my worst that it happened. That magic day.

I set up my pitch, down a bit from the tube, by the canal. It's a good spot to catch people on their way to work - people with money. I've got this sign: "HELP ME, I'M HOMELESS." I stick it in front of my knees. I find kneeling the best position. You don't look so rough.

This particular morning, I'm feeling a bit sick - I think I was hungry - and I'm getting settled in my place with my filthy blanket and my money box, Kiba fussing around my ankles, when I suddenly feel faint. I _am_ going to faint, and I lean back against the wall, feeling like a wind is blowing round my brain, sucking at it - and I am sliding down the wall when I feel a hand grab my upper arm and I'm thinking, It's got to be the police, for no one, no ordinary person would touch me, I'm so dirty and ragged - and then I start to focus, as I come back from the swoon. "Are you alright?" There are these eyes looking at me. Deep brown eyes full of light, full of _concern_. No one had ever cared that I was alright since I can't remember when. And he's talking now, saying, "Hey, sweetheart, sit down, take some deep breaths..." and he's gently supporting me, as I slide to the ground. And I'm looking up into his face, and his pineapple hair, and those eyes - all the time those beautiful, clever eyes, telling me that he cares about me, truly he does. The face of an angel.

"Nice dog," he says, patting Kiba's head. Kiba was going crazy with the attention. Wagging his tail off. Dogs know. They know the good from the bad.

That was the beginning of it. I suppose that, even then, you could call it love.

I'd never had a boyfriend. Told myself I wasn't interested. But really it was because I could never let myself believe that anyone could like me, ever. When you're in care, people treat you differently. It's like you're not part of the real world. Not even human.

But now I was thinking about him. That boy. A simple enough thing, except it wasn't. Normally all I thought about every waking second was how to get enough cash to get food for Kiba and to keep Mikoko and Yuichi happy at the same time; or how I could somehow find Sakura. But now as I walked home, my pockets jangling with pennies (mean, mean - people are so _mean_, I'd be lucky if I'd made a fiver today), I was thinking about _him_. And, already, I was feeling sad because he was probably just passing by that morning, and I would never see him again.

I'd given up looking in the mirror. Why bother? I knew I was dirty, thin, scrawny - like something from a horror movie. But the next morning, I dared myself to have a proper look. And I did it oh so slowly, walking to the cracked mirror in the bathroom with my head down, and then slowly lifting my head - so I could just see my eyes. Sunken, pale blue eyes, and then my nose, my mouth - my lips all cracked and dry. Living here, like this, was like living underwater; not in the real world. You weren't part of the human race. It was like you weren't able to breath properly, always gasping for air.

But that morning, I forced myself to look. Surprisingly, my skin was clear and my hair, although filthy, was still thick and straight. I might have been pretty, I thought. Was I?

And I washed my hair! Something I hadn't done in weeks. Washed it under the freezing tap water. As I towel-dried it, I felt my scalp tingle with the shock of being clean.

And there I was again. With my sign, "HELP ME, I'M HOMELESS", watching, watching. I thought I'd break with the strain of watching. And every so often I'd see some young guy emerge and for a second I'd think, Is it him?

But that morning, the only thing that happened was the woman from the centre with her stupid smile - Tsunade, her name was - coming by. "How are you, Ino?" She looked at me, her face serious.

And she bends down, talking softly about how they can help me...I'm so young...they've helped so many...I just have to take that first step...And I take her card and nod as if to say, Yeah, good idea, when she says I can call her any time, no questions asked. Pigs might fly. She gives Kiba a pat. He backs off. He's not sure of her at all. He lays down and puts his head in my lap. Protective.

Then lunchtime, as usual, Kiba and I go to the canal and sit with the others. Kids, vagrants, dropouts. We share bits of food. I ask if anyone has heard from Sakura. No one has. No one cares, anyway.

Back on my pitch, early in the hot, sticky afternoon, I'm drowsy and just feeling as if I'm going to nod off when something makes me look up.

"You alright now?"

I think I'm dreaming. He's just standing there. He's got a coffee and a sandwich and he's looking down at me with that look. I wish I could stand up, but I can't. I'm frozen to the ground. I run a hand through my hair and feel the surprise of its silkiness. I look back at him, into his eyes. I feel as if I will melt into the ground.

He's wearing jeans with a t-shirt and a linen jacket. It's like someone from another universe has spoken to me.

"It's just that you looked so pale - yesterday, I mean."

"I'm fine, thanks..."

_He's looking at me again._ Looking at me in _that way_. If only I were some other person, in some other time, some other place; anyone but this filthy mess called Ino.

"Hey, have this..." he says, handing me his coffee. "I've just had one."

"No, no...'s okay, really."

"Go on!" he says, putting it down on the ground beside me. "You need it more than me."

Kiba is all excited again. He's wriggling around, trying to get attention.

"Great dog," he says, patting him. "What's his name?"

"Kiba."

Then he gives me a five pound note! "Buy him a bone or something."

And then he was gone. I stood up, so I could see better, and watched him until he reached the junction and turned the corner. I felt like shouting after him.

The note crinkled in my hand. Five quid in one go! I felt like a millionaire. I put it in my sock. There was no way Mikoko and Yuichi were getting this money. I'd get stuff for Kiba.

The next day I was on edge, watching.

He didn't come.

_He will come; he's got to come..._ whirled round my head. Then, _he's not coming, he's not coming, he's not coming..._ That I might never see him again, might never learn anything more about him, was unbearable. I am _so_ stupid! I should have followed him to see where he went. I determined then, that if I ever got another chance...

That's how, next day, I found myself walking, like a shadow, ten metres or so behind him, my heart banging in my chest with nerves and happiness. He'd come back. At the corner, he turned as before and swept down Byres Road and then left into a little alley. It was a narrow, cobbled street, with houses and offices that looked like they'd once been workshops or garages. I watched carefully; one, two, three, four - he entered the fifth door on the right. Blue, is it blue? Yes, the blue one. That was easy to remember. Once I was sure he was safely inside, I walked up to see if there was anything on the door. There was a silver plaque: KONOHA DESIGN. I wondered what he did in there. Design things, I supposed. It made me a bit sad. I mean, he was in the real world, doing stuff. And where was I? Underwater, doing nothing.

And so it went on. Almost every day he came by and he'd smile and sometimes say, "Hi there, okay?" and occasionally he'd bring me a coffee. And when he didn't come - off sick, on holiday...I could never know - I felt devastated. Completely and utterly. And if a few days passed without seeing him, this deepened to panic - would he come back, ever? It was unbearable.

One night in late summer, I was up near the station with some of the canal gang. It was past eleven before I realised, with horror, that I hadn't fed Kiba. He'd be going crazy. It wouldn't occur to Mikoko or Yuichi to open a tin. Too much trouble. I took a shortcut through the little maze of streets that brought you to out to the bus stop on the main road.

Just then, I realised I was in the street where _he_ worked, and I felt a shiver rush through me. I looked at the blue door, KONOHA DESIGN, and then up at the windows which were black and shining with reflected light. The words of some old musical song came into my head, "_On the street where you live..._" For a few seconds the whole street seemed made of fairy dust. Then I headed on, turned left, and, disbelieving, I saw him coming towards me - head down, hands in pockets, striding forward. _Was_ it him? I couldn't believe my luck! The rolling walk, the dark pineapple hair. My heart was pounding.

And then suddenly, from nowhere, like something in a film, the screech of brakes - a car - three lads jumping out - the car door flailing. For a second, I couldn't figure it out. Then the shock. A scuffle, a flash of steel, so quick. Even in my state, tired, confused - I felt the force of those boys, their heads wired up to nothing but what they were about to do. And I saw, as he turned, that it _was_ him, his lovely face shocked and confused, although he was trying to fight back, to shove them off.

I don't know where it came from; somewhere deep, deep down inside, but a wild energy catapulted me forward; I shot at them like a bullet from a gun.

"Stop it! _Stop_ _it_!"

By now they had him face down on the ground. There was blood. One of the boys looked round at me, his eyes wild, not registering. He thrust me out of the way. _Thwack_! I hit the pavement hard.

"Get his wallet! _Get it_!"

I was pulling myself up. As fast as they had come, they were gone. All I could hear was the noise of the car, brakes screeching, as it hurtled down the tiny, dark street.

Heart pounding, I turned him over. My angel. He was unconscious, his face covered in blood. Oh, God! What to do? Be okay. Be okay. And just looking at his face, I was making a prayer. Dear God, I was saying inside my head - although I had never prayed before - if you let him live, I will get away. I'll get away from this life and get myself together - make myself good. Good enough for him.

I promised this on his life.

I looked wildly around for a phone booth. Nothing. I had a hazy thought that I had passed a row of booths a couple of streets back.

I covered him with my jacket. I ran back up the cobbled street and round the corner. Was it this street? No, the next one - and thank God - a phone booth at the end of the road. Please be working.

I dialled 999. "Ambulance! Someone has been hurt, mugged. My name? Doesn't matter. Hurry! Hurry! He's in Dowanhill Road..." I could hardly speak. "He's _bleeding_! Please, come quickly."

And then I tore back. As I turned into the corner, two girls were running towards him. I stopped. One of them went forward and knelt down. She felt his pulse, she looked into his eyes. The other stood there, pulling out her mobile phone. _But I've already called, _I wanted to scream. _They're on their way..._I've _taken care of him..._

I wanted to push them out of the way, to look after him, like he'd looked after me. Then I glanced down at myself, my filthy clothes, my split trainers, ran my fingers through my tangled hair. You could see what I was. A street kid. A vagrant. I looked at them. It was so pathetic, but I didn't want those girls judging me. They'd probably think I had something to do with it. I couldn't risk the police coming.

Come on! Come on! Where is that ambulance?

I thought I would go mad with worry and frustration.

At last, the siren and the ambulance came crashing down the street. One of the girls got up, waving and jumping up and down. "Here! Here!"

I watched, peeking round the wall. The other one - sandy blonde hair pulled into four ponytails, red jacket, the girl who had felt his pulse - got up.

"He's got a nasty stab wound in his chest. His pulse is not bad, but he needs..."

The ambulance man kneeled down to check him out while the stretcher was brought. "Spot on," he said. "You done this before?"

"I'm a nurse at the Western. Is that where he's going? I'll come with him. I don't mind."

"_I'm a nurse_!" I mimicked. I couldn't help myself. I felt hatred welling up inside me. _I_ was the one who'd saved him; _I_ was the one who called the ambulance.

I watched as they carefully lifted him onto a stretcher. I watched the whole time, until the ambulance, with the two girls inside, sped off, siren shrieking. I walked to the place where he had been. I could still feel him there. The heat of his body. There was something purple, crumpled in the gutter. My jacket. Kicked aside like an old rag. It wasn't even good enough to wrap him in.

I picked it up and ran, jumping on the first bus that came along. I was shaking all over. And worrying, worrying about _him_. And underneath it all, the promise I'd made running through my mind.

I'd even forgot about Kiba. As soon as I walked through the door, he leapt at me, quivering all over, excited, loving, hungry. "Kiba boy!" I knelt down and hugged him. Fumbling, I got his food from the secret stash I'd bought with my little windfall. Then I sat down and tried to calm myself. Waiting until I could pick up the phone without shaking, I got the number from directory enquiries. Western Accident and Emergency. Please, please. Please be okay.

"I'm calling about a boy, a mugging - in Partick - about an hour ago. Is he okay? I just need to know."

"Are you a relative?"

"No, it's just that I saw it. I called the ambulance."

"Well, we can't really..."

"Oh, _please_. I don't need to know any details. Please, just that he's okay. _Please_."

"Well, hang on..."

The wait was torture. I almost didn't want to know, just in case it was bad news. Then she was back.

"He's stable. That's all I can tell you."

"You mean - he's okay - he's not going to die?"

"Well, maybe okay isn't the right word, but his life is not in danger. Now, hang on, please. You said you were a witness. The police want to talk to you. What's your name?"

I was almost swooning with gratitude. Thank you God. Thank you God! For a second I'd forgotten the woman on the line.

"Hello, hello..." she was saying. "You must hang on for the police. Who are you?"

"Nobody," I said, and put down the phone.

* * *

It was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. That'll seem odd to you. To escape from that low-down life; from that filthy house - from Mikoko and Yuichi. But you have to understand. It was all I had. It may not have been much of a life, but it was my only life. A roof over my head, a bed. I had nowhere else to go. But I had made a promise, that night, when I held _him_ in my arms. I was going through with it. Whatever it cost.

* * *

It was pitch black. I lay awake for ages, fully dressed, stroking Kiba's head. He was awake too, as if he knew. I had to do it that night. If I left it until morning, everything would be back to "normal" again. My sad little routine, tea in bed for Mikoko and Yuichi, the street, my pitch outside the station. I would lose my nerve.

I must have lain there for over an hour, getting up the courage. Then I slid out of bed, like a shadow, picked up my bag, moved to the door and I peered out. I crept down the corridor, so, so slowly. "Shh! Shh, boy. We need to be quiet. We're going out, alright?" I opened the door and we ran out into the night.

* * *

"What's your name, love?"

"Ino."

"Ino who?"

"Ino Sato." It was ridiculous, Sato. I could have laughed, if I hadn't been so scared.

"Where are you from, love?"

"Nowhere."

"Well, look, we've got to have an address, if we're going to help you."

Kiba was jumping around my heels, drawing attention to himself.

"I've got this." I handed her the scrunched up card I'd got from that woman from the centre. _Tsunade Sannin - Hokage's Hostel._

Tsunade was called. "It's fine. I know her." She looked at me. "I'm glad you came, Ino. But we can't take the dog."

"Then I'm not staying." I turned to go. I didn't know what I was going to do, just die probably - but I wasn't leaving Kiba.

"Wait. Okay. Well, just for tonight, then."

* * *

Three weeks later I was still there, and so was Kiba. I'd been through the mill. What was I on? Drugs, alcohol? I could see why they thought that, the state of me.

"I'm not on anything."

She looked at me, disbelieving.

"I don't eat much."

I had to be examined by a doctor. Have blood tests. To be sure I wasn't lying. I was clean, of course. But they didn't give up. Where are you from? Who _are_ you?

"Ino Sato," I said.

They looked me up everywhere. Scouring the world of missing girls. No Ino Satos anywhere, of course. Anyway, I was sixteen; Social Services would have given up on me. I didn't really exist in the real world.

That first night, I held Kiba in my arms. "We've done it, boy! We've done it _for him_."

Now I had to start the business of becoming a human being. And that was the second hardest thing I'd done in my life.

* * *

I became a good girl. I helped around the hostel. The food was rubbish, but I ate it - all of it. Within a week I had put on half a stone.

Then, when they thought I was ready, Kiba and I were moved to a halfway house. I suppose they meant halfway between being nobody and someone. That first night I had the longest bath ever, scrubbing myself clean. I looked in the mirror - properly, this time - not the usual, quick, sideways glance. And as I rubbed at the mist with a towel, I saw this face appear and it looked like, well, a normal person. Except something in my eyes - like there was a story there - a whole book of stories. My cheeks were round and my skin pink and white. My wet hair was wisping into slight waves, and I let it dry like that. I remembered my name, my real name. Ino Yamanaka. That's who I'd been once, a long, long time ago when I was in a family, my family, and at school.

I thought of _him_, his face, the way he walked, and the way he said, "Are you alright?" and that look, and I felt a sudden rush of something through my bones, as if my whole body was crying out with joy. Love, that's the only way I can say it.

But I knew enough to know I wasn't quite ready yet. I wasn't a hundred percent human. I needed a job, something to make me a part of the real world, his world.

One day, when I was up in my room, our social worker Anko yelled up the stairs. "Down here, everyone! You've got a new housemate."

Funny, I knew it before I even turned the corner. I felt this tingling in my fingers. The pink hair, crazy as ever.

"Sakuraaaaaaa!"

We couldn't believe it, neither of us. We screeched like two wild animals. She was the same, but taller, skinnier.

"Have I been through it," she said. "Detention centre, the lot. I'm on probation now. But..."

I was laughing inside, to see her again. She was like my only family. My sister. "Sakura, wait..."

I ran down the corridor and opened the back door. Kiba came careering down the hall like a bullet.

He knocked her down, licking her all over. "I just can't believe it!" Sakura laughed. "He remembers me."

That night we told each other our stories.

We laughed so much we thought we'd explode. It was like the old days, only it wasn't.

We were never going back there.

* * *

I've got a job now. I walk there in the early afternoons. The other day I realised I was beginning to notice things, like trees and flowers, the sky, and the way the light changed. I work on the ticket box in a cinema and Kiba and me, we've got a room of our own. A bedsit, on the ground floor, with a French door opening onto a ting garden. Sakura has to stay in the halfway house until she's finished her probation, but then she's going to come and live with us. Meanwhile, there's something I've got to do.

I've seen him lots of times. I go to Partick, to his street, taking a long way round so as to avoid my old hangout. The first time, I wondered what I'd feel, but it was just the same, as soon as I noticed his face, the way he moved. I've followed him too. I've followed him at lunchtime and I've even followed him home. He lives not too far from me in a first floor flat. One night, I stood across the road for maybe an hour, just watching. I know where he goes at lunchtime; and I know that on Saturday mornings he goes to the gym at the sports centre. I've been there, twice. There's a pool, with a big glass window that looks over the gym. I borrowed a swimming costume from Anko, and risked it. The first plunge, well, it felt so good - that long forgotten feeling of water, like silk, streaming over my body. How long had it been since I'd swum? I spent a lot of the time sitting on the edge of the pool, opposite the window, watching him - doing weights, the walking machine, that earnest, concentrating expression on his face.

I love him.

The second time I left the pool early, and waited, sitting on the benches in the corridor. I watched him come out of the gym, hair wet and sticking out from the shower, and go into the canteen. He passed me, sitting there pretending to read a magazine. I wasn't sure, but I think he looked twice. My heart turned over. But he wouldn't recognise me, would he? It was so important that I met him properly - as me - Ino Yamanaka. And I could only pray that he wouldn't remember who and how I was. Although I think that would be hard, the way I am now. Blooming, Tsunade says.

* * *

And this morning, Saturday again, I knew it was time. I woke up feeling the weight of my arms, the softness of my skin, as if life had been gradually seeping back into my body. I felt alive again. I fed Kiba, talking to him. "Kiba boy, I'm going to meet our friend again. The one who gave us that fiver! Wish me luck."

I got ready, oh so carefully, and brushed my hair so it fell all around my face in gentle waves. I put on my new jeans and the nice purple top that Tsunade had given me for my birthday. I didn't know exactly how I was going to do it; I just knew, with utter certainty, that there was something between us, something huge, and it had been there since that first time he had stopped and said, "Are you alright?" I had done this thing, and it was all for him. I had saved my life.

* * *

I was so worked up, terrified, as I went into the sports centre. I didn't know if I was afraid he _wouldn't_ be there, or that he _would_ - and then I'd have to go through with it.

I swam, very briefly, and then sat on the edge of the pool, watching. And then he came! In his black shorts and green t-shirt. My heart was turning over and over.

I swam a little while longer, then stood up and shook myself, trying to shake some courage into my bones. The timing had to be exactly right. I couldn't miss, not now I had made up my mind. Everything seemed quiet and buzzy and I realised that I was half-paralysed with fear. I didn't know exactly what I was going to do. I could only pray that he didn't change his routine - that he'd go to the canteen like last time. I went into the changing room. I had a shower, washed my hair, and made up my face. It was Ino Yamanaka who looked back at me. Ino Sato had gone. I was ready.

* * *

He was sitting at one of the long tables. At once, I saw how it could go. I fetched a tray. I hardly knew what I chose.

"Anyone sitting here?"

He smiled, and gestured to the chair. "No, help yourself."

I don't know how I kept myself so calm. He was so close, I could have reached out and fallen into his arms.

"Excuse me, but do I know you?"

"Sorry?"

"Sorry, it's just that you look familiar..." He cocked his head to one side, thinking. I could have melted.

"Oh, I've come here a few times."

"Hm, that's probably it, then..." he looked puzzled "...but...never mind."

I smiled.

He smiled back. "What's your name?"

"Ino Yamanaka."

"Hi, Ino - I'm Shikamaru." He reached out to shake my hand.

It was like a bolt of electricity through my arm.

The backround noise seemed to disappear; the people too. There was just the two of us. We began to talk. About his job, about my job, and whatever there was on that first day was still there, only stronger than ever. He leant towards me and I felt true happiness, for the first time in as long as I could remember. Probably ever.

Then suddenly he looked up. His face changed. He smiled that smile, but in a different way; his whole body poised - his eyes full of light. My heart began to pound.

_Bang bang bang._

"Temari! You made it."

A tall, sandy haired girl was walking over to our table. Everything was completely silent now. I felt a rush of blood to my face. This Temari was looking at me, questioning.

"Oh, hey, Temari - this is - sorry - what's your name again?"

"Ino."

Temari sat down while he went to fetch her a drink. She wouldn't look at me. She knew.

And then he was back. I was burning up inside. Wordlessly, every fibre of my being was shrieking, _Please, don't say it..._

But he went on. "Yeah, Temari is my fiancee. If it hadn't been for her, I'd be dead. Really. But, hey, that's another story..."

I knew then. _I'm a nurse at the Western. I'll come with you. I don't mind._

It should have been me. I was the one who saved him. How could this go so terribly wrong?

* * *

I woke up the next morning feeling completely dead. Empty. Kiba jumped on my bed and snuggled up. He knew something bad had happened. He always knew. But this time, he couldn't comfort me. Nothing could. I made some tea, sat at the table and stared out the window. What had it all been for? I re-ran the scene again and again. _My fiancee...Temari._ But there _had_ been something between us. It was still there. Hoiw could he not feel it? I felt the world crashing around me.

I rang Sakura. "Can you come, _please_?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

And hour later Sakura blustered through the door. I couldn't believe how much I had missed her. She'd bought us doughnuts and tea from the cafe on the corner. We sat at my tiny table.

Shaking, I told her the story - everything. She listened, wide-eyed.

"A nurse!" she shrieked. "How could you expect to compete with a _nurse_ saving his life...? Just your luck - angels, they call them, don't they? She's probably a stupid prissy cow anyway." She pulled her I've-Got-Something-Nasty-Under-My-Nose face. She was so funny I wanted to laugh.

And I did. Real laughter. It rose up from my stomach in great waves, and it felt so good...and then I cried. It was like a dam bursting.

What was it all for? I felt as if I'd been emptied out of any feeling I'd ever had. Then for weeks I felt nothing. Nothing at all. Then one day I woke up and felt okay. I mean I wasn't underwater anymore, struggling for breath. I had a room, a job; I had Sakura and Kiba. I had come up for air, was living in the real world, and I suppose I had him to thank for that.

* * *

AN: Um...I'm sorry that the first thing I post in ages is so sad. But it's what I wanted to write at the time.

So, what did you guess this was inspired by? That's right, The Little Mermaid! Give yourself a cookie!

Thank you for reading, and if you could be so kind as to review, that would be great. Hope you enjoyed!


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